


Puzzle Pieces

by Pickl3lily



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mostly Gen, Rare Pairings, Sparring to friends to lovers, Team mentioned but not involved., This is weird, don't know how to tag, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:11:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickl3lily/pseuds/Pickl3lily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick has never really fit in. Maybe all he ever needed was someone to spar with. </p>
<p>Rubbish at summaries - hopefully the story is better.<br/>Mostly narrative and a bit of an introspection on Mick Rory's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puzzle Pieces

**So please feel free to leave a comment, or else I'll never improve.**

 

 

Becoming Chronos was a real turning point. Before the time pirates, nobody except Len had even trusted him; despite the kid and haircut trying to turn him into a good guy and make him feel a part of the team, it hadn’t worked. He had felt pain in his chest that he hadn’t allowed himself to experience since he caused his parent’s death, with one flame; suddenly he was fourteen again and nobody in school wanted anything to do with him, because he was practically a giant compared with others his age. Because he wasn’t smart enough, as if he chose for the letters to move around the page, as if it was his fault that the teachers wouldn’t look past his defensive posturing and realise that he wanted to learn, but was too proud to admit his difficulties.

It was strange then, that since his betrayal, since learning that he had been the bounty hunter resolute on killing them, that he had never felt more welcomed in a place before. They knew now his past, having visited that time and place to intercept the pilgrim, they had met his younger self, cocky and defensive; he just hoped none of them had noticed that his younger self had tried getting close to young Sara when she had been friendly and consolidating, but immediately shut down and put his walls back up the moment the word ‘weirdo’ emerged from her lips. He hoped nobody noticed the delighted smile when baby Len had clamped a tiny fist on his finger and refused to release him, the feeling of being wanted overwhelming him in happiness before he remembered his façade.

Whether they had noticed or not, there was no denying that there seemed more trust between the team and himself than there had been at the start, as if they had waited for him to betray them, but were perfectly capable of accommodating him into the group now that it was over and done with. He didn’t really know how to cope with it; he had been denied true loyalty and a sense of belonging for his whole life, even with the Snart siblings, he didn’t have the shared experiences that bonded them so closely, but now that he fit in, he just didn’t know how to deal with it.

The thing with Sara, he couldn’t explain how it happened. Though he might use the word slowly. It happened slowly. A slow burn. One day he was hitting a punching bag hung in the cargo area, venting off steam from being cooped up for so long, and then Sara lunged onto his back, an arm tightening around his neck. Instinctively, he grabbed at the thumb, snapped it back as he lurched forward to buck her off of him. She fell, and didn’t even allow for hesitation as she jumped to her feet, offering a smile and wink before stepping into his space, trading lazy blows before he caught on. She wanted to spar with him; the realisation had him not just on the confused offensive, but actively trying to get a swipe in, which appeared to delight her, as she gave a short and sharp bark of laughter before parrying him with blows of increasing speed and force. Half an hour later, he lost control and snapped her clavicle and humorous, the pain making her cry out and go deathly pale before swaying on her feet.

He knew he’d done wrong, even mumbled an apology, which may have been incomprehensible, but the thought was there. The thought was there when he lifted her as gently as he could and carried her to the medical bay, by which time she had lost consciousness. He remained with her whilst Gideon mended the bones and informed him that she had also fixed some ligament and tissue damaged caused in the sparring session. Mick Rory had been a violent man for so long, and had caused so much pain and death that he had thought himself immune to guilt. Turns out, everyone has their limits, and he’d found his.

When Sara came to the cargo bay two days later, he couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting her to attack him, but this time he allowed her punches to connect, and didn’t even pretend to put up his defences – he didn’t like owing people – better to get it over with now, after all. But barely five blows in she stopped, a frown marring her features. Studying his face for a moment, she took a step back, rolled her eyes and let out a huff of exasperation. “Honestly, remember who I was trained by. I’m not a dainty princess, you hurting me just showed that I still have areas to improve on. To think I was actually almost impressed by you – pathetic. There’s no _challenge_ here.” It was like a switch flipped then, the same way she had goaded him in the Old West. He allowed a little snarl as he lunged forward, the only warning of the sudden barrage of hits he offered to her; this time as they volleyed their blows, it was clear neither was holding back and he had never felt so free outside of the flames. When he was the one who ended up in medical bay because Sara had encountered a bit of a problem reigning in her bloodlust, there was no apology outside of coy smile and wink as she deposited one of her stolen joints from the 70s on his bedside.

It became something of a routine, with the two of them sparring and at least one of them ending up requiring medical attention from their sessions, but neither one of them even thought about ceasing their unspoken agreement. It was the calmest either had been since joining the team and neither was ready to let it go. Besides, the times when they didn’t injure each other too severely, they would just parry blows until they became lazier and lazier, eventually tiring out and collapsing beside each other, sweaty and breathless on the metal grates of the floor. They became so attuned to one another’s fighting that in battles with enemies, they would often find themselves sharing an opponent, pushing them onto the other whilst dealing with another bad guy, and then having them shoved back, just to be knocked out. The two team members moved in such harmony, that they just seemed to fit together, like puzzle pieces – making maybe a little bit of sense alone, but when put together, everything just starts to _fit_. As their sparring sessions continued, so did the development of their friendship.

When Mick had her pinned in a session, giddy with a sense of victory, he didn’t really consciously make the choice to dip his head and plant a kiss on her lips, but somehow it was a thing that happened. As soon as he realised, he went to lurch away, to leave the room, to avoid her; he didn’t get the chance. She had him pinned in a flash, so quickly that he wasn’t even able to comprehend how she had him in that position. She was astride his broad chest, legs in a position that allowed her control of his arms and a knife was pressed against his throat. Interestingly enough, his throat was where the excuses and defences he was planning to provide, got trapped and died. They died there because before they could reach his lips, Sara did; quick and firm, her lips slotted against his, pulled back and he received a slightly stunned and examining look, before another expression took its place and the knife removed. She seemed incredibly amused as she gave one of her amused head shake – shoulder shrugs movements, and suddenly her lips found hers again, this time in a way reminiscent of their fighting. It was rough and vicious and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, not even a flame; her kisses burned more savagely and sweetly than any flame that had ever licked his skin.

 

If this was what being on a hero team resulted in, he regretted fighting it for so long.


End file.
